


The Expression of Love

by Mercenary



Category: Violet Evergarden (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Gen, Light Novel Fusion, Older Man/Younger Woman, Romantic Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-03-24 02:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13801017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercenary/pseuds/Mercenary
Summary: Gilbert knew he was a selfish man in many ways.  His love was selfish for keeping her by his side, in the war, when she could have grown afar and safe. Which is why he cannot help but loathe his selfishness that refuses to let Violet live free even as she lays still and a double amputee. But he cannot live without seeing the one he holds as most precious.  / To be continued Spring 2019/ (Author is busy)





	1. Chapter 1

Violet lay still and her milk white skin wan with illness. Her arms useless at her side, bandages only just hiding the cruel metal from his view. Not that it mattered when he knew the flesh and blood arms were gone because of him.

 She had been a queer child when he had first taken her into his arms. Blue eyes that seemed so dead of emotion that she truly fit the part of an empty doll. A small, beautiful perfect doll that had been turned out into the battlefield because of him.  Gilbert had used her as a tool for his own advancement.

 As the years passed, he could no longer justify his cruelty to a child that had been maltreated throughout her life. For all that Violet, named for a divine deity by him, was a young woman in years and appearance, her mentality was akin to a child in many ways. His loathsome self still loved her as a man loved a woman. 

 They called her the Warrior Maiden of Leidenschaftlich throughout the war. A killer, a weapon and one in the form of an avenging angel come to reap the souls of sinners. On her hands was the blood of many. Gilbert gulped as he looked at the unconscious Violet, knowing that if there were any innocent party in the brutality of the world – it was her.

 Used and abused before adolescence had truly begun. 

 " _There is a garden, vast and gay, where the flowers bloom all year. Winter comes and winter goes leaving the glorious bounty of the divine untouched. Tis a garden blessed and…"_ He read to her a tale of something beautiful. 

 She stirred. And his heart skipped a beat as he placed down the novel awkwardly with his prosthetic hand. Hope stirring in his chest at the thought of seeing her blue eyes. He wanted to gather her into his arms and to give his vow of never letting her go. Except he could not do so without further damning her to a life of death and fighting.  He was from many generations of army officers, the only exception being his older brother, who had gone against tradition to join the Naval service.

 He could not help but to compare her to the goddess she had been named for.  Fallen to wander amongst mere mortals with no memories of a time before being found amidst death. Only to be cruelly used as an instrument of more death as easily as men wielded a rifle.

 “I’m so sorry,” Gilbert murmurs guilty of not merely the physical injuries to her body but the deep scars to her mind and soul.  And for daring, the vile devil he was, to profess from deep within his hear a love that shook him to the core. “Violet…” 

 Her name was a prayer upon his lips. 

  _Violet. Violet Vio-let. Violet._ A chant to what gods existed for her safety; her wellbeing, her happiness, and most selfishly for her love. 

“Colonel, it really is not appropriate for you to remain here after hours,” the infirmary matron stood at the dorway, chiding him without a care to his new rank of Colonel. “Miss Violet requires time to heal in solitude.”

 You’re wrong… Gilbert had to bite back the vicious retort, knowing that the matron had doted on the blonde girl. Had he not witnessed her carefully teasing her blonde hair free from clumps and matts. Singing softly beneath her breath as she gave such tender care.

 “Violet does not like being alone. “It was a timid response he gave that lacked the fire of what he’d wanted to fire back in protest of being dismissed. “If…when she awakens, I must be with her. I am all she has. “and _she was his everything._

How shameful he acknowledged his improper feelings were, did not stem the wild tides of them. He loved Violet who held no name but the one he had given her with everything he possessed.  What troubled him the most was the reality that he could not act upon such things. Not when Violet was a mere eighteen to his twenty-eight.  Never when all she knew was him, war and violence.

 Violet deserved something better. Which was why he had already penned the ardent letter to his distant cousins, _the Evergardens,_ for want of a normal situation that a young woman like Violet deserved. 

 It was heavy handed of him to profess his desire for her to fly free, only to take these heavy decisions into his own hands. Gilbert could only pray that one day it would show fruit for her benefit. He did not dare hope that a day would come when he would lack shame if he pressed his suit. 

 It _would be okay,_ Gilbert thought serenely, _if such a day would not come._   Providing that he did not lose her presence in his life even if her heart was led to another. Her happiness and freedom would eclipse whatever desires he himself held selfishly within his heart and soul regarding her.

 He turned to the one entrusted with Violet’s care.  “Forgive me, Madam, I leave her in your worthy hands.” 

 It is to manners bred and trained into him he falls back upon.  As much as his chest hurts at the thought of leaving the bedside, the other woman has the right of it, it isn’t appropriate. Violet is to be an Evergarden, a young lady of gentry that deserves every respect owed to her and more.

 She will not be his Violet any longer, for in the time ahead she will surely become her own Violet.

 A selfish man like Gilbert can only pray for that Violet to hold him kindly.  No matter how undeserving he might be of such regard.


	2. Memory & Awakenings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't read expecting anything edited or proof-read. I write and I post. I don't look back. This is basically a linear-ish drabble of Gilbert perspective of an canon divergence.

 

 Gilbert could still feel the pain of being dragged down the steps with Violet. At the time, all he could think about was that she had to live no matter what. He knew that to stand a chance he had to get her away from the bombardment. 

 The momentum of the blast propelled him down the stone steps with her. He remembered his screams, as by some blessing Violet had lost consciousness, no longer aware to deal with her grievous injuries. 

 At the time it had seemed somewhat fitting that they might die together.Their blood mingling on the hard stone of the enemy headquarters as the sky burned above them with artillery fire. These past years had not seen them parted even once. If that were to be their end, at least they were not to be parted. But still he had silently pleaded for someone to find her before she succumbed to the blood-loss.

Death had truly scared him and in what he had feared would be his last moments it was hard not to let the tears flow. As a soldier he had always been prepared for the inevitable death in the service.  He loved his brother, his sisters and his mother dearly; except he wasn’t thinking of them as he lay bleeding out back on the battlefield all those weeks before.

They were Bougainvillea and knew the duty it entailed.  Instead, all his thoughts had been of his dear Violet, who was so close to him yet seemed so far away in these last moments.

 Those were the only events of the last battle that he recalled clearly.  And seeing the contrast of before and after was still somewhat jarring and even with the blood, bruises and physical wounds treated, nothing would ever be the same for Violet and him.  Even when she was taken out of sedation.

 

* * *

 

 

Her first words upon awakening were not at all surprising to him.  Violet called out his rank as she tried to push herself up with her new strange metal hands. Where metal met nerve and flesh it was still raw as they fused slowly together.  She showed no indication of the pain she must have felt as she tried to bring an arm up to salute him.

 “Violet, don’t push yourself,” Gilbert said, trying hard not to avert his gaze at the reminder of what she had lost because of him.  “You’ve been sedated for some time and incoherent when you were not. “

 Her recovery had not been an easy one.  Infection, her blood type rarity, and the severity of her injuries had seen her given nutrition through a tube. Keeping her sedated had not been a popular choice of the physicians as much as it had been the necessary one. 

 The longer her nerves and flesh was given to heal without prosthetics would make it harder to adjust to them. Even if it would have been substantially less painful to wait for when the wounds were a little more healed than raw.

 Gilbert had experienced it with his singular prosthetic.  He was glad that Violet would not have to remember the process as he could.

 Before his gaze she flexed the metal digits of her right prosthetic. She bit her bottom lip severely as her eyes darkened and she lowered her head.

 “Forgive me, Major, I am unsure if I will be capable of operating at full capacity for you.”  Her distress was evident as she apologised to him, each word sending daggers through his chest. 

 Gilbert felt shame punch him low and hard in the gut. 

 “What matters is that you get well again for your own sake, Violet.” Gilbert answered.  He knew better by now than to tear apart her belief that she was nothing more than a tool. It wasn’t something mere words would teach her. Time and different experiences were what he prayed would be her salvation.

 “As you command, sir.” Violet said in response, ever diligent to what she perceived to be his control of her actions. 

 “It isn’t a command,” Gilbert replied. “It is a wish made from one who cares for you.” 

 Her blue eyes widened in confusion as she struggled to understand his meaning. As always when that happened, Violet voiced her lack of understanding, looking at him in her ignorance for clarification. 

 Gilbert swallowed and shifted in his seat at her bedside.  Words had never been a strength to the reticent man. Known by others to be stoic, very few made it into his small inner circle, and none were so influenced by him as Violet. That made deciding on the right words harder than anything.

 With her expectant stare pushing him to make his selection, the soldier forced himself to smile.  “I care about you greatly. Your wellbeing, happiness and future are my priorities. There will be no more war for you, Violet. I accept that you won’t understand my feelings at this moment. But I truly believe that in time you will know the meaning of my feelings for you, Violet.”  

 He wouldn’t tell her that he loves her again. The desperation he had felt on the verge of death had pushed him to make a last ditch confession. To make her question the meaning when she had much more to learn would be cruel.  All he could do was frame what he wanted for her as a lesson he wanted her to undertake.

 What he felt was secondary to the needs of the blonde young woman.  Violet was his priority and after so long placing her below his duty to his country, he would see to it that he did his duty to her. As he should have done all those years ago when he took a bruised and ragged girl into his arms.

 If only he could have seen her as a brother saw a sister, he would have felt no confliction.  Violet would have been welcomed to the Bougainvillea household. She would lack for nothing as he made his paltry amends. But the unromantic and cold Bougainvillea head was twisted enough to love her in another way.

 When he looked at her, Gilbert could see she was the prettiest of women.  None could doubt her beauty as to being akin to the nymph maidens of mythology.  It was her softly spoken curiousity that he admired. That despite her self-professed lack of understanding of emotion she was also kind. Even her bluntness was charming to him. 

In truth, he also acknowledged that he loved the vision of what she could be in the future.  He also mourned for the lost opportunities that had passed her by already.  What he felt was undoubtedly love, that he did not question, because her past, present and future consumed his thoughts. 

 The trouble was that he questioned on if he would have a place in her future?

 


	3. Goodbye for Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duty calls and his superiors dictate. Time has flown past and now it is time to say goodbye to her.

Claudia had the gift to make Gilbert feel utterly ashamed of himself. He somehow had managed to convince Violet that working at his Postal Company was what Gilbert wanted. That was untrue, of course, as Gilbert had stupidly envisioned Violet becoming the young noblewoman of the Evergarden family.

In other words, his long-time friend had seen what Gilbert had been blind to.  Violet would never accept the sort of life he had unwisely considered to be the best future for her.  She couldn’t go from a battlefield into an unfamiliar civilian life so poorly equipped. 

Most would never see it, except himself, who knew her so well.  See the curiousity and unspoken desire to know more about the subject of which Claudia Hodgins spoke about.  Gilbert did and when she looked to him for permission he had tried to frame his answer as non-commanding as possible.  An opportunity to meet others and do something that was safe would be a first step for Violet.

Gilbert felt a smile cross his face, as his cousin, Tiffany Evergarden, fussed over Violet.  The girl herself was uncertain and uncomfortable from the force of nature she was faced with.  He held himself back from intervening, she didn’t need him to dictate everything for her.  He had to step back to allow her to find her own way.

That didn’t mean that he felt any better about his upcoming return to duty.  Leaving her behind with Claudia and Tiffany was still not sitting well with him despite his trust in them. His poor cousin’s eyes brightened around Violet like they had been before the loss of her son had dulled them.  Their adoption of Violet had been intended to be one of name only in his initial plans.  Now, he wondered, if perhaps this would become something more for her.

 ---

 

“The war is over, there is no more fighting like before,” Gilbert Bougainvillea said as truthfully as possible. There wouldn’t be _any_ fighting like there had been during the war.  As to whether or not he would see some form of combat again, it would be very likely even with his prosthetic arm, and damaged eye.  “But there is still work to be done for Officers. I will have to leave sometimes, but I will return to you.” 

She looked at him with an earnest gaze, with nothing more than that in expression.  Leaving her behind was the hardest choice he had made in a long time.  Never one quick to smile, he curved his lips upwards ever so slightly.  For her. 

Violet was dressed in in a skirt with ruffles, ribbons in her hair, and practical heeled walking boots. Everything neat and put together, as she no longer relied on him to poorly pull her fine, silken hair out of her face, and that realisation hit him hard with regret for all that she had missed out upon.

Gilbert had never taken the time to learn how to braid her hair.  Not that the opportunity had been ever present during much of the past few years due to the war.  She had been in too large army fatigues, hair askew, looking as a ragamuffin for the duration of the war.  Had that been fair to her?

His chest tightened. Away from the battlefield she looked every inch the young lady, gloved arms that hid the fate of her flesh and blood ones, as she walked in her skirts gracefully.  This was a world away from what he had given her in life since they had met all those years ago.  Violet was unsure of things, that much he noticed from her few tells.  However, even better than that, he felt hope blossom inside his heart that it wasn’t too late to return to her what had been robbed from her.

Her life. Already she was adopting the manners that Tiffany kindly set out to instil within her. An apt pupil in learning to ride, showing such gentleness and kindness to the elderly piebald who was her mount.  Watching her learn these things unrelated to warfare brought unwanted tears to his eyes. 

_This,_ Gilbert thought, _had been what he had wished for Violet for so long._   Sitting with a variety of tutors that filled in the huge gaps in her education that he had attempted to give her.  Her mind was brilliant and absorbed so much in a short time. 

Filled with pride at her achievements as if he were some observing father. That comparation from Tiffany had irked him as much as it disturbed him.  She was at least eighteen as far as doctors could tell, though, given her lack of birthdate there was an ambiguity.  He wasn’t even close to old enough to fulfil such a role in her life. 

But if when he returned from where his superiors commanded him to go, he had been placed in such a position in her eyes, there existed a question of his response. Could he bring himself to force his feelings into a very different form?  He dared not think of what answers he could conclude with.

“Yes, Colonel,” her voice was low and soft despite the monotone. “Mr Hodgins has informed me and I will be acting in the capacity of a postal service worker. I will wait for your return as instructed.” 

Hearing her respond brought him back down from where his head floated amidst the clouds.  Even if the response was predictable, given that he couldn’t expect miracles so quickly, he felt a little disappointed in her formality. Sometimes in the past, he had resented that he had done nothing to f _ix_ her struggles with emotions. 

Broken and doll-like as she was, that was a fault that came from the choices of others.  She was a victim of what other humans had inflicted upon her before and after Gilbert. Killing others was all she knew – being unable to understand that the act was a terrible one.  She killed so easily but took not one jot of satisfaction from it as others he had met would do.

Claudia had been the one to announce that _she_ lacked any conceptualisation of her actions.  There were no memories of a time where she had learned the basic moralisations of mankind.  Faced only with a fight of survival and people like him who used her survival instincts for gain.  She didn’t know that once a life was taken it was gone forever.  She didn’t know of the guilt and burden of killing.  How could she when the luxury of her emotions had been stolen by her past…

Nobody else would understand that she was the most innocent soldier in the war.  Even if the emotional impact of it seemed absent with her for now.  Not even with his admiration and love could he deny that she was a broken person.  He believed that without a doubt. Gilbert was a broken person too but unlike him, Gilbert had such beautiful hopes that she could be fixed.

So, he stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around her slight form.  Pulled her tight against his chest even if she was stiff and unyielding in her confusion as to how to respond. Her body had softened with regular meals and none of the physical demands of being a soldier.  Such a realisation gladded him as a symbol of her return to full health. 

He pressed his lips on the crown of her head. 

“I’ll write to you as often as I can,” Gilbert promised with every intention of fulfilling it. “It’ll be almost as if we are together still.  I promise you that, Violet.” 


	4. Letters & Loneliness

When Gilbert vowed to write to her, there had never been any expectation of being written back to.  Nor in the least did he expect to learn of her qualifying as an Auto Memory Doll during his absence.  Claudia had written as well to reassure him that it had been a decision made solely by Violet. 

He sat on the dirty step of the barracks enlisted housing with a faint smile on his face. Not just anyone could be acknowledged as a worthy doll like Violet now was.  How he longed to be there to congratulate her on her grand achievements in her new life. She had written succinctly of a girl who had made her acquaintance and he just knew that Violet had to have made a friend.  She had a friend and when he had been sitting in the Officers’ mess, he had felt tears stream down his one good eye.

Hearing back from her made him long to leave this dusty, dirty encampment while further peace talks ensued.  Return to where his heart remained and give her his most genuine and heartfelt pride in his own voice. Not simply words penned on paper that seemed shamefully meagre in encapsulating all that he wished to say. Perhaps his pitiful words were still enough to be treasured by the one he loved most.  Gilbert would not know but he wouldn’t stop his letters.

_Dear Violet,_

_Days are spent quietly with not a hint of the violence of before. Sunshine makes the ground dry and everything dusty when the wind comes blowing through the encampment. Things are peaceful as the march towards a stronger covenant between nations is ironed out by those above us.  As I write these letters to you, I find such gladness that you are free from this tedious duty, and I delight in reading all that you relate to me in these letters so dear to me._

_That you have forged such friendships has made this tedious duty a more pleasant task.  You do yourself no credit for even from your modest words can I see how your kindness helped your friend. I’m gladdened that others can experience your kindness now. Amazed and very proud to learn of your great achievements to date._

_Every letter that I receive from your hand, Violet, have become my most treasured companion here. Reading of your experiences brings me contentment in a way nothing else has. A balm to the grim nature of duty even on the eve of official peacetime.  There is nothing so great as my joy to know of what you learn and share with me in those precious letters._

_Forgive me this one criticism, for the one flaw is that you omit my name.  I would be happy to read Gilbert from your hand if it pleases you._

_With Love,_

_Gilbert_

 He caressed the sheet over paper. Knowing that at some point it would be in her hands as she read it. A fickle breeze passed over him as he folded it carefully, slotting it into the envelope for collection. Nervous because of what he had dared request of her by asking her to call him by his name.  Something he wanted so badly that the idea of her rejection was painful to consider. 

_Call me by my name, Violet,_ he pleaded silently. Wanting nothing more than to read it from her hand, so that when they came before one another again, there was hope that she might speak it.

If Gilbert Bougainvillea thought deep and hard on what he wanted, it would only stir shame deep inside of him. For of course, despite his joy and pride for her experiences, he knew jealousy for what it was, and he was a man that felt jealousy towards Claudia.

 Being a far better man than he, the red haired retired soldier had always spoken poorly of the use and abuse of Violet, even when he had no inkling of her innate kindness. Only of what she was capable of in violence. Unlike the others who had seen her kill with flawless efficiency, Claudia had been the only one to see the girl with no guide or learning. To recognise that she needed normality away from death and violence.  Believing such things when even Gilbert was blind to the truth of it.

He was the better man that looked at the younger blonde and saw youth.  Hodgins had also seen the potential and done far more than Gilbert to encourage it to blossom from within her. 

She was a violet that was blossoming far away from him.  Who didn’t need him like he had grown accustomed to over the years. Everything that he wanted for her was slowly beginning, it was the plan he had set in motion, except hundreds of miles away from her, he found himself lonely.

At night when the sun died for the day, with the stars breaking through cloud cover, it marked the point where he would look up at the sky they both shared. Did she look at the same sky and wonder about his wellbeing?  Or was she busy filling her life with no experiences that were helping her grow? There was an irony, a rather grand one, he decided, that he was lost without her presence.

Aimless, beyond fulfilling his duty to the highest standard as expected of a Bougainvillea.  Of course, he aimed for the upper echelons of the ranks in order to ensure Violet was undisturbed. The famed Warrior Maiden had uses in politics and he was determined to keep her free of it.  Establishing her citizenship through adoption had been the first step towards that. 

Standing up, he stretched himself out, before stowing the letter and pain inside his uniform.  There would be a change of guard approaching soon, with the barracks filling up with eager to sleep soldiers. Meaning it was long past the time for Gilbert to return to the administration building.  It was time to work.

Things were peaceful for now, nations tired of war.  Far too many young, fresh faces filled the ranks of those under his command. Too many of his squad had found their deaths during the last decisive battle. 

A privilege of rank had granted him the undisturbed time to write. However, the responsibilities of rank demanded him to move with haste. Gilbert marched away, with his focus turning back to where it should have been before.  One did not need their heart with them to fulfil their duties. 

Nobody paid him any heed when he returned to the building. Everyone was still somewhat giddy from the cessation of hostilities. Too relieved to be alive that formality and hierarchy lapsed. He found it unsettling after so many years raised to a standard of being the image of an Officer.  Tomlinson had even unbuttoned his fatigues so that they hung loosely open. 

“Bougainvillea, were you off writing a letter to your sweetheart?”  Ever friendly and jovial with his flagrant disregard of formality, the middle aged senior Officer said, loud enough to draw in others to pay attention to the exchange. 

It took a lot not to flinch at the unintended blade through his back.  Tomlinson meant well when he tried to draw Gilbert into a circle of friendship, but how could Gilbert answer politely when he wanted to be cold.  

“Someone like that,” he settled for.  Hoping that one day it might be true. “And what of your daughter? I heard word that she has given you a new grandson. Congratulations…”

 

 


	5. Rebels & Imperfect Peace

Of all the soldiers fit to be undercover on the train, he did not consider himself the best candidate. With his one good eye, one prosthetic arm, he looked every bit the war proven veteran. With his short army cut, he was forced to wear a particularly unpleasant cap that itched. Bundled under a few layers of clothes that hid his guns from view of any of the targets. 

Not all of peacetime was paperwork and routine border patrols. People existed that would take advantage of what so many had fought and died for. Criminals thrived when all others were turning their attention to rebuilding their fractured lives when war had touched them.  With local police forces undermanned due to the recent conflict, it was left to the special forces like Gilbert to fill in the gap.

Terrorists could not be suffered to live.  He gazed out the window, seemingly lost in thoughts to any observer.  He watched as the meadows gave way to stone and water as they passed through the last checkpoint before the operation would begin. On edge as he had always been before such a mission.

Out of habit he would look to his side, expecting to see the familiar blonde haired, blue eyed girl, dressed in overly large soldier fatigues meant for someone lessslender than she.  After so many months away from Violet, the absence of her still bothered him in ways he could not describe. She had been his constant companion for so many years that it felt wrong to be here without her.

Grey clouds merged outside, as the train covered more ground across the country. It signalled rain and that immediately became a problem if it would ruin visibility for the snipers in wait. His flesh and blood hand twitched above where his service weapon was carefully concealed.  Soon the train part of the operation would also be over. Gilbert exhaled loudly against the glass that fogged up from his breath. 

Being back on the edge of a dangerous situation bothered him more now. During the war it had been a given and he had worried more for Violet and his men than himself. From the moment he had been briefed on the details of this operation, an unfamiliar fear worried his thoughts, for he had been reminded of his own mortality in his last military operation. How ironic was it that he knew his part was simple and the risk minimal. 

When the journey got bumpier he knew the main event was coming. Gilbert waited for the signal to act. Energy thrumming beneath his skin in anticipation for the combat ahead of him. Littered amongst the carriages were other squad members laying in wait for the same signal. Kindly made by the cause of the entire situation - the politically driven terrorists.

 _No more recklessness,_ he promised himself, _he had made a promise to return to Violet._ Scarred and not whole as he were, hard lessons had been learned from his past engagements. Tough lessons that had come from living with the consequences of decisions he had made on the field of battle.  Never, had he considered that someone was waiting for him to return safe and whole.  Not discounting that his family loved him, there had never been a singular person who would miss _him_ outside of them.

There were letters tucked inside a pocket that pressed against his heart. An altogether embarrassing sentimental placement that made his cheeks burn red when he had done it unthinkingly. Keeping what he had from her close to him seemed so brazen on his part, as a public admission of his deepest and most private feelings, and he still did it anyway.  Keeping her in and close to his heart in what little ways he was able.

 Gilbert looked out the window, as fire, sparks and smoke accompany the screeching of the train against the track. People shout and he releases the grip he had on the compartment table. Standing despite the horrific havoc that the signal had caused by stopping the locomotive unexpectedly. It was for the best and doing it here and now would minimise the casualties. Better the few than the many. What few civilian passengers that were on board would get away with cuts and bruises at worst.

Years before, back when he was young, it had been so easy to think in terms of country. Serving was the highest honour that a man could aspire to; something that had been bred and forced into Gilbert from childhood. Necessary sacrifices for the sake of their nation were expected. With years of war behind him now, jaded from the demands and sacrifices, he could only think of how tiring it all was. Even if he knew the main target was a bad man.

Not that a change in perspective could remove the necessity of it.  Reaching up the jumper he removed his gun, recalled the combat knife stashed upon his person, and ran into action. Names, faces and an entire swath of irrelevant facts on the guilty ran through his head as he sprinted up the train.  All of them burned into his mind’s eye alongside their preferred tactics for hijacking trains. 

One of the first he spotted, he could coldly analyse his worth as useless. Gilbert didn’t waste his ammunition when he used his prosthetic arm as choking leverage. Didn’t flinch when he slammed his opponents head ruthlessly against the metal internal wall of the train. Nor did he feel any guilt when he discarded his first defeated enemy like a piece of trash.  He thought about it in terms of one hostile less.

Gilbert pushed through panicked civilians. “Remain seated. Keep your heads down and seal the compartment when I leave. There is an ongoing Leidenschaftlich army operation onboard. In order to secure this transport, we require your cooperation so that we can end this safely. Uniformed soldiers will commence evacuation within the next three minutes.”  

He didn’t dare add, _if things went according to plan._ As to how he knew that he was amongst civilians and not one of their hidden targets, the truth was that he could not be sure. And he knew how reckless it was to announce his presence so openly but he had faith in his ability to deal with it.  Some risks were inevitable and this was all part of the plan that he had helped create.

Human nature dictated that they would object, panic aroused enough that they would argue. Fortunately, all seven nodded silently, faces empty of colour as fear drained them of it. Giving him the freedom to move forward to where the ringleaders would most definitely be.

Hijackers they might be, but they were former military members. With the cessation of conflict, they found the adjustment to peacetime contrary to their own ambitions, which created militant groups across the North and South of Telesis. Leaving it for the military to swiftly eliminate them before they could ignite fresh intercontinental hostilities.

His boots hit the ground hard, and he longed for a bayonet.  He passed several of his men, each of whom had fulfilled their role in the plan, before he approached the carriage where intelligence had pinpointed as the location of the leadership of these hijackings. Giles Florence, former Lieutenant Colonel, discharged dishonourably for numerous crimes that had tarnished the honour of the armed forces. A man who was a disgrace to the uniform and oaths that they had sworn upon entering the service to their country. 

Gilbert felt fury rise inside of him at the thought of a traitor. The Bougainvillea family had served in the army for 26 generations, with many members immortalised as national heroes, who had fought, bled and died.

Regardless, the time to dwell on the failings of the man would not be now. Right before Gilbert and his men would make the arrests that would see him most likely executed. Gilbert thought capital punishment for such a man was far too kind a fate.  Not that it was his decision to decide the fate of a man such as Giles Florence. 

Bullets ricocheted on the next door before he could open it, his still somewhat unwieldy prosthetic slowing him down, and by chance it had likely protected him.  Gilbert shifted his body and waited before opening the double doors.  Gun raised to point at the increasingly frenzied looking criminal.

Coldly, Gilbert didn’t acknowledge the way Giles Florence went to put down his weapon, likely thinking himself able to surrender. The dark-haired scion generations of military heroes squeezed the trigger with no regrets watching as two bullets destroyed an arm. It made him sick to his stomach to know that the arm he had shot had touched children in immoral ways. 

Perhaps he hated Giles Florence so much because of his own moral disputes. Giles screamed and he screamed. Flailing about in horror at what had become of his arm. High calibre bullets ensuring that he would never regain working use of it.  Gilbert had half a mind to use the other remaining bullets or a final solution to Giles predilections. 

“The bullets were for the children. Everything else will be for terrorist activities across the Southern Continent.  Giles Florence, you are being taken into custody of the Leidenschaftlich army, as I speak your colleagues have been subdued, killed or taken into custody. Onboard and in the surrounding area. “

It was done. They had received intelligence from one who didn’t suffer a man like Florence.  He, a traitor, amongst many other things, had been the betrayed in this instance. Fed intelligence that suggested this train would provide Florence and his men with the opportunity to take hostages of means.

Political means that came from close relations in government.  Like they had done in targeted hijackings before and not only in Leidenschaftlich.  Trying to ruin the imperfect peace that they had only barely obtained. 

Half-heartedly, he shrugged off his lumpy jumper.  Placing it against the bleeding arm, pressing down hard, kicking the other man’s gun far away. Ignoring his crying, his garbled shouts and checked his timepiece. 

Everything had gone to plan, even more smoothly than anticipated.  To him it felt alien, for the entire time he had been waiting for something to go wrong. Nothing had gone wrong and there had been no surprises.  

The rail in front had been damaged.  The bulk of the men had been positioned around the area in trucks prepared to load up any hostages and their comrades. It was done and Gilbert felt himself at a loss.

Violence had become too easy for him. That was not the kind of man he aspired to be...

 


	6. War Makes For Broken Men and Conflicted Emotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No edits. Self-indulgent semi-linear drabbles. I probably need to rewatch and reread. And that probably is all I have to say \o/.

Harsh words were the type that seemed to linger forevermore, Gilbert reckoned. He looked at his long-time friend, unsure of where they stood since their last meeting. Claudia’s face allowed for nothing to show when he noticed that Gilbert had strode through the open doorway. Something tangible and unpleasant in the air between them. 

 He sat down at the other side of the table. Gilbert hated being so close to where Violet was, only for his best friend to act as a gatekeeper, who denied him entrance. A part of him resented Claudia, something dark and focused whispered in the far edges of his mind on the other man, but the rest of Gilbert understood _why._ Someone, that was not Gilbert, now acted with the best interests of Violet the young woman. 

 Rather than feel grateful as Gilbert knew he ought to, it made him tense and irritated. He looked at his so-called friend, with a hint of the dark thoughts directed at Claudia lurking in his gaze. Regardless, he waited in silence, and attempted to quell his uncharitable disposition towards his dearest friend.  But that was more of a trial than Gilbert would have ever thought. Their last words together before parting had been difficult to accept on his part.

 Claudia had usurped a place that Gilbert had always occupied. His friend had questioned his integrity towards _her_ -  throwing accusations like daggers straight into his heart. The worst of it had been acknowledging that there was truth within all of them.

 Gilbert broke the silence between them with a tentative question. “Is she well?” 

 Of course, he spoke of Violet, for all that she faithfully gifted him with letters, he needed to know more. Her letters were of her experiences, often devoid of what she may have felt. It made him feel like a voyeur, because he wanted to know everything, without her invitation to share in it.

 Claudia flexed his right hand as if he could read everything that crossed Gilbert’s mind. As if he could sniff out the faintest whiffs of guilt and shame like a bloodhound with a trail.  Friendship between them seemed such a strained frail thing, their heated words echoing around them still.  It occurred to Gilbert that this meeting could very well result in a complete break of their bond of friendship. 

 “Violet is very well. She is blossoming in your absence, learning to live a life of her own. Her clumsy kindness endears her to those around her. She…she would be happy for you to be with her, Gilbert. You aren’t her entire world now,” Claudia said, taking a pause to allow for the words to sink in. “But you are irreplaceable in her heart.  What I said had some truth when we last s _poke._ But not everything.”

 There was the familiar warmth and kindness returned to Claudia’s eyes and face. From the way he spoke of Violet, it made Gilbert’s heart leap upwards, because that was what he wanted for her.  The selfishness that did not want to lose their bond was the truth that Claudia referred to. He was right on the mark.

 Gilbert swallowed his pride and forced himself to think firstly of Violet. He would die for the one who had claimed his heart through no effort at all. She had unknowingly established her place in his life above any other. Just as she was walking on her path and forming new bonds with others.

 “You are the better man, Claudia,” Gilbert said, the words flowing easier than he had thought they would. “I am conflicted. I am torn. I made the wrong decisions and she paid the price for them. “

 What lay ahead of him was forcing himself to change. His fists clenched and his brow furrowed as he thought back on how much he had failed her. What had passed could not be unwritten, even as the guilt and shame lived within him; too much of him was an Officer that thought in terms of the means justify the end.

 There was a heavy grief in Claudia’s eyes when he simply replied with. “We all made bad decisions.”

 War had prematurely aged his jovial friend. Death and violence had aged himself as well, with the weight of it all casting a heavy burden on his shoulders. Where he could put the burden to rest remained a mystery that only time might solve. Across the seemingly endless future that spanned so far ahead, Gilbert hoped that something akin to peace might come to him, and for such a thing to be shared with Violet.

 He reached out and clasped Claudia’s hand.  Gilbert squeezed it and hoped that for a moment he might chase away the ghosts that haunted the other man. Being a Bougainvillea had cleansed him of the romanticism of war, before he could even read a book. It was duty, it was honour; never glory to be claimed amidst the blood of man. War was a forge from which monsters surfaced. 

 Claudia’s chuckles ended the silence between them. “I bet you never thought we’d end up two old soldiers holding hands. Not back when we first met all these years ago, Gil.” 

Like a switch had been flipped, the tension that had been a consequence to their fight was gone. It vanished as if it had not been a tangible force between them. Gilbert couldn’t hold a grudge. What poison that had spread through his mind because of the wounding words would take time to purge completely. How could he be the kind of man that he wanted to be for her sake, if he didn’t?

 Everything was muddled, he was a fractured man. For so long he had relied on her presence at his side to anchor him. Long had he imposed upon his brave and courageous Violet. Claudia Hodgins had seen that before Gilbert ever had, and now was taking it upon himself to rectify it.

 Who was he? Gilbert doubted that he could answer such a question. As a soldier, he had been firm and confident; someone who gave orders that he trusted fit the situation as he knew it.  He didn’t know how to voice his weariness, because it was not a physical weariness. 

 Standing up, Gilbert looked down on his still seated friend. “I trust you more than I trust my own judgement, Claudia.  I trust you with everything. “

 “I know,” Claudia replied, simply. “You trusted me to protect Violet.”  

 Gilbert knew that the words _‘even from yourself’_ went unspoken.  And he smiled for the first time in many weeks, reassured that even if he wasn’t quite okay, that Violet would definitely be fine. 

 As Gilbert moved towards the door, Claudia called out after him. “Violet is scheduled to return home tomorrow.  Come by after midday and visit.”

 


End file.
